by Kit Crumb
Amy returned the smile, then crossed her eyes at him.
The Medical Examiner asked me to climb up here for a perspective shot.” She stuck out her tongue for effect. Buck had been part of the interview process and the two had hit it off. They didn’t cross paths often but when they did there was always a moment of levity.
As though it had never occurred, the banter stopped and the atmosphere of the room came alive with activity. Shore stepped around another large arc of blood spray but never made it to the refrigerator to join M. Amy brought the camera up and began taking pictures. When she finished she jumped down off the counter, and headed for the door.
“I’ll need those pictures before noon,” Buck said.
She acknowledged the detective with a smile and a wave and started taking pictures of everything the killer might have touched as she left the suite. As she went down the hall she imagined the killer slinking up the stairs. She stopped in the lobby to take pictures of the front desk and the entrance to the hotel. When she stepped from the entry onto the sidewalk she noticed a homeless man and pointed the camera at him, surprised when he covered his face. She fished a five-dollar bill from her pocket.
“How about a pose for the camera?” She leaned toward the man holding out the money. “Quick cash. What do you say?”
“Keep your fucking money.”
She took the picture anyway but was surprised when he threw up a hand to cover his face. But when his shuffle step turned into a trot and then a sprint she was really surprised. Who was this guy? She turned and headed for her car, never noticing the homeless man peering at her over the top of a rusting AMC Gremlin.
CHAPTER FOUR
BUCK LOOKED DOWN at the Medical Examiner as he draped Richard Green’s body. “You got a time of death for me?”
“It’s hard to say for sure, two maybe three this morning. Maid found them around nine,” Tessu said.
M walked over as Buck kneeled down and pulled the sheet back for a closer look. “What else do you have for me?” Buck said.
“Slice and dice. The male has several deep slices to both the right and left forearm. From the depth and number I’d say he put up a fight, lost a lot of blood. But he died of a knife wound made by a very long knife, one that entered just below the stomach, missed the kidney, and exited next to the spine.”
Buck looked over at M who nodded. He let the sheet drop. “And the woman?”
Tessu shook his head. “Single knife wound to the abdomen, probably the same weapon used on her husband. But I’m pretty sure she died of the decapitation. Odd thing though, there’s no trace of clothing in the wound.”
Buck shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“All Mrs. Green was wearing was a T shirt, but long enough that the knife would have cut through the material before entering the skin. The T-shirt is undamaged. It’s as though he took it off, stabbed her then put it back on.”
Shore lifted the sheet covering Kate Green but couldn’t see the front of her shirt. She had fallen to her knees then forward so that her hips were up, and her shoulders were down, dried blood was everywhere. M was looking over his shoulder.
He carefully pulled the sheet back over Kate’s exposed buttocks. “Any sign of sexual assault?” M said.
Tessu shook his head, “I haven’t gotten that far yet. That’s the way she was when I walked in. The maid found her. You want to see the head?”
M stood up and looked over at the small covered object. “Anything special I’d be looking at?”
“Not really. You’ve seen one bodiless head you’ve seen them all.”
She walked over and joined Buck who was standing in front of the refrigerator tracing the character with his index finger, not quite touching it.
He looked over at M. “Can you read this?”
Tessu walked over and stood next to her.
“I can’t say for certain. It’s old Japanese, pre World War Two,” she said. “What do you think Tessu, any ideas?”
“It’s beyond me, but I think you’re right--old Japanese for sure.”
Buck didn’t say a word, turned and walked toward the door, but stopped in the center of the kitchen taking in the crime scene, committing it to mind. M walked past the Greens, past Buck, out of the kitchen, and into the hall.
He found her leaning against the wall, back flat, head down.
“You alright?”
She looked up. “Yeah, fine thanks. I just had to get out of there.”
“You see anything I need to know about?”
She didn’t answer for a second. “Something about the knife used as the murder weapon. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
CHAPTER FIVE
BUCK STEPPED UP, NEXT TO M. “L
ets catch up with Kitting. One of her shots could provide a clue about the weapon.”
M walked toward the exit at the end of the hall, Buck right on her heels. They took the stairs down two levels to the ground floor, briskly crossing the lobby of the Dungeness Bay Hotel to the sidewalk out front.
No sign of Kitting. “She’s probably half way to her house by now,” Buck said.
“Hey you two, shouldn’t you be up at the crime scene?”
Buck whirled around. “Hey Ramos, you haven’t seen Amy Kitting, in the last five minutes, have you?”
Chief detective Octavio Ramos shook his head. “Got hung up at a domestic, just got here.” He walked into the lobby, M and Buck following. “How’s the new photographer doing?” Ramos said.
“I’m not sure,” Buck told him, “it’s a pretty gruesome scene up there. I want to make sure she’s alright and get a look at her camera work as soon as possible.”
“I’m going up to the crime scene right now, you might check with hotel management, I understand a maid found the victims.”
***
Thomas Seller stood behind the front desk of the Dungeness Hotel, but didn’t look up at the sound of approaching footfalls. It was a game he played, attempting to predict the character of a patron before actually laying eyes on them. When he looked up he was visibly surprised.
“I suppose you guys want to talk to the maid that found the Greens?” he said to M, while looking at Buck. “I’ve got her back in the employee’s lounge with a cup of tea.”
M stepped around behind the desk but paused in front of the lounge door, when Buck touched her on the shoulder.
“I’ll be here at the front desk, I have some questions for Seller. My car’s double parked out front, I’ll meet you there.”
Ginny Davis was sitting on a thread bare couch, knees pulled up to her chin, sipping on a steaming mug of tea. When M entered she nearly dropped the mug as she leapt to her feet.
“Sensei,” she executed a quick short bow. “What are you doing here?”
Then the tears began to flow and she stepped into M’s open arms.
“C’mon let’s get out of here,” M said, leading her out of the lounge.
By the time Buck returned to the car the two women were settled in the back talking. He climbed in the driver’s side and turned around.
“Hi, Ginny.” He extended his hand. “I’m Buck Shore, Bay County sheriff’s detective. You up to a few questions?”
She looked first at M then at Buck shaking his hand.
“I guess so.”
He shifted uneasily in his seat.
“Why don’t you describe how you came to find the victims, and when you first saw the character?”
She nervously looked over at M then back at Buck again.
“I got no response to my knock, so I used the passkey. The entry opens into the living room, but I always start cleaning in the kitchen and work my way to the master bedroom.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and began to rock.
“I saw something on the floor before I opened the kitchen door. If I’d known it was blood I never would have gone in.”
Tears streamed down her cheek, and Buck reached over and gave her arm a squeeze.
She shook her head and blinked away the tears, but didn’t stop rocking.
“I saw the woman first.” Her eyes glazed then filled with tears again. “I forced myself to look away, that’s when I saw the character on the fridge door. I didn’t see the man until I started to leave, he was up against the wall, all curled up.”
Ginny suddenly bolted from the car and began vomiting into the gutter. M pulled off her sweatshirt stepped out onto the sidewalk and handed it to her, and helped her back into the car.
By the time they got her home she needed assistance unlocking her front door. M helped her clean up and climb into bed. Buck was sitting at the kitchen table when M emerged from the hall leading to the bedroom.
“How is she?”
M went to the sink and washed her hands. “As fine as can be, considering what she saw.”
“Yeah, that’s got to be rough.”
She stiffened, “Ginny was pretty upset at the woman’s position, I don’t think she even noticed the decapitation.” She turned and leaned on the counter. “Just as well.”
Buck fidgeted. “I won’t know if she was sexually assaulted until I see the ME’s report.”
He stood up. “I’ve got to go, the bodies should be at the morgue by now. Homicides always produce a pile of paperwork, and Ramos will want it by afternoon along with the photos of the crime scene.”
M walked to the door. “Think you’ll make pre-test tonight?”
He joined her. “Don’t count on it. I’ve got to interview half the hotel staff, probably chasing down statements late into the night.”
They walked in silence to his cruiser, climbed in and buckled up.
“If you’ve got an hour I could squeeze in your lesson right now, it would give us a chance to discuss the murders. I think I’ve got a couple ideas about why the Greens were killed the way they were,” M said.
“One hour, and I want to hear more about the character on the fridge, too.”
CHAPTER SIX
AMY PULLED HER VW BUG up the driveway and parked under the carport. Gathering up her purse, she extracted her key as she walked up to the front door–it fit both the knob and the dead bolt.
She glanced at her watch. “Better print these out,” she muttered to herself.
She dropped her purse on the kitchen table next to the computer, extracted the camera, and plugged it into the USB port and punched up picture preview. She rocked back in the captain’s chair letting her long hair hang over the back, listening to the computer click and whir. When all was silent she rocked forward and looked at the screen, it was filled with five horizontal rows of photos from the crime scene, but her eye was drawn to the homeless man in the last row at the bottom of the screen. Wearing filthy, ragged clothes and a five o’clock shadow, he looked the part, if not perhaps a little young. She then noticed that in the last photo of the last row, the one where he’d thrown up his hand to cover his face, his fingernails were clean and trimmed.
Amy printed out each photo on an eight-and-a-half-by-eleven sheet of paper. When the last one came out of the printer she pulled it aside and through a magnifying class scanned the homeless man’s fingers.
“How about that? Clean as a whistle.”
She scanned the prints as she gathered them into a stack, surprised as a tear rolled down her check. She’d been so careful not to focus on the victims, using her camera to keep the gruesome nature of the murders at arm’s length. When she gave a sniffle, all the odors of the murder scene flooded her senses, and in that moment she was overwhelmed with the horror of it all.
Feeling her stomach lurch, Amy leapt from the chair and ran to the bathroom, collapsing into sobs and dry heaves. Fully five minutes passed before she pushed up from the floor and gazed into the mirror above the sink. Pulling her long hair to one side she examined the circles under her eyes, took a deep breath and smiled.
“All work and no play makes Amy a dull girl,” she told her reflection.
She laughed, pulled the shower curtain aside, and turned on the shower. She dropped her clothes in the hamper and would have stepped in front of the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door but the shower had already steamed it up. Twenty minutes later she was in front of her chest of drawers, pulling on pink panties and a pair of white tennis shorts. Standing topless she turned sideways to the mirror on the back of the door, pulled her shoulders back and watched her breasts thrust out.
“Now what am I going to do with you?”
Rummaging around she finally decided on a jogging bra and top. All ready for a day at the beach.
She threw together her favorite lunch, stuffed the crime scene photos in an envelope without looking at them, scribbled Detective Buck Shore on one side and dropped it in the basket with her lunch. She’d make a detour by the Bay County Sheriff’s office before she headed to the beach. When she backed out of her driveway into the street she never noticed the rusted Gremlin at the curb two doors down.
The Gremlin drove past Amy as she turned into the Bay County Sheriff’s parking lot, pulling to the side of the road until she drove back into traffic, heading toward Dungeness Bay. When she turned onto Beach road he knew she was headed to Whaler’s Cove, the road dead-ended there. He hung a U-turn and headed for downtown Dungeness Bay. He had one more stop before he’d meet Amy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY PARKED IN THE ALLEY behind Dungeness Bay Fitness and Martial Arts. M got out of the car and waited for Buck to walk around next to her.
“After your lesson I’m pretty busy but should have enough time to drop by and check on Gina around three or so.”
He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I really appreciate that. Any new information would be a big help. Call me on my cell phone.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “No problem.”
He stopped and touched her on the shoulder.
“I know this morning’s lesson is breaking into your personal time, but I just couldn’t make it this afternoon or tonight,” Buck said.
She started walking again. “Not a problem. Helping Gina this morning was a priority that changed my schedule, and you fit right in.”
They stopped talking for a minute as they passed a homeless man sleeping next to the dumpster, he was partly covered by a hole-riddled blanket. When they approached he gave a low groan and rolled over, the blanket fell off his shoulders.
M stiffened as the man pulled the blanket up to his chin. “What is it?” Buck said, stopping to follow her gaze at the rumpled figure curled on the ground.
“Maybe nothing.” She stepped closer to the sleeping figure. “Hey you!”
The man rolled over, his short-cropped hair standing up like a rooster’s comb on one side of his head. What looked like dried vomit stained his chin. He was Asian, and looked a little young to be homeless. He held the blanket up to his chin like a virgin on her wedding night. “Huh?”
M stepped back. “Nothing, sorry to bother you.”
They walked in silence to the end the sidewalk, she turned and looked back down the alley.
“Come on, what’s up? You want me to roust that guy?”
She didn’t answer for a minute. “No leave him alone. It’s just that he’s been hanging around for a while. He’s harmless.” Then she turned to look up the sidewalk at the front of her business.
“Windows need washing,” she said, and picked up a paper cup from the brick windowsill. “Tourists, you love ‘em and you hate ‘em.” She stepped into the alcove that housed the double doors, pushing one open for Buck.
“Age before beauty.”
He groaned as he stepped through. “Thanks.”
She smiled as she followed him through the door. “All part of your training.”
They stopped at the front desk where a young man was sorting mail.
“How’s the traffic this morning, Mark?” M said, steppi
ng up and picking through the stack of mail.
“Not a lot of clients, but a lot of mail.” He plopped down a second stack of just credit card applications. “Oh, and I got your application off for the new equipment.”
Buck shot his eyebrows up. “Buying new weight machines, business must be good.”
She turned and leaned her back on the front counter. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I lease the machines.”
“Oh,” he said, and looked past the manager to the over-sized clock on the wall. “I really have to get going. If this lesson is any problem we can push it off until tomorrow.”
M stepped away from the counter and through the turnstile. “Not a chance.” Jogging toward the stairs that led to her apartment she shouted over her shoulder. “See you on the mat in five.” Then she was out of site. He skirted the mat as he headed for the men’s changing room, and his locker there.
***
Mark Lima was the morning manager for the gym and also one of M’s top black belts; at twenty-six, he’d been studying the martial arts with M for ten years. He finished sorting the mail, tearing each pre-approved credit card form in half before putting it in the trash. Private correspondence went into M’s box along with tournament invitations. When the mail was all sorted he reached under the counter for the “Back in Five Minutes” sign, placed it in the center of the front desk where no one could miss it, grabbed the trash can and headed for the front door.
When he rounded the corner into the alley he stopped in his tracks. “Hey, get out of there,” he shouted, then broke into a sprint. The stout figure of a street person dropped over the side of the dumpster and nimbly spun around.
“Sorry, man.” He spoke in a ragged Asian accent. “I was just looking for lunch.”
Mark stopped a few feet away. “Yeah, well you won’t find it in this dumpster. Now get outta here before I call the police.” He watched until the figure rounded the corner at the far end of the alley, then dumped the trash and jogged back. He’d already been away from the front desk too long. As he stepped back behind the counter, he removed the sign and wrote himself a note to tell M about the guy in the alley. He couldn’t have anticipated the homeless man’s return to the dumpster.